I long to post the picture I took on Mother's Day and to tell you of the charming sentiments I received and compliments, etc.
But instead I want you to feel my pain. The pain I feel upon urinating. Why? And more importantly, why now? A UTI! Do adults even get those? Ouch.
And feel the pain of my son, whose vomiting has stopped but whose appetite has not returned and who insisted he must go on the field trip wherein the class hiked 2 miles in the sun, and who had to be carried (by his endocrinically-challenged mother) up a long gravel trail to the car.
Also, my son, he has emotional pain. He had written a darling missive to his mom entitled "Happy Mother's Day" that was stolen on the bus and then passed around to a bunch of ugly, stinky, wart-ridden girls on the bus who taunted him by saying he loved his mommy. He ran all the way home and hid in the bushes for 10 minutes after the bus ride. And we are not riding the bus this week (that is, we won't ride it if he ever goes back to school). Double ouch.
The pain affects my poor daughter, who has decided to go ahead and try out for an advanced soccer training program. This thing is expensive, it feels like it is so NOT us, it involves four days of tryouts??, and I just don't know, nor does she, if it is the right thing for her. Is it? How will we ever know? I hardly think she is the next Mia Hamm. But what if she really is?
The pain of the checkbook and its empty, gnawing feeling is one you've heard before and may be experiencing yourself this lovely month post-taxes. OUCH. OUCH. OUCH.
I'm going to call my gynecologist now.